


let the truth sting

by celaenos



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Fix-It, Gen, this fight is so dumb and the writers are so stupid, what is female friendship? does it exist on glee?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1251709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celaenos/pseuds/celaenos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She looks at the torn pieces of the photograph on the floor and clenches her jaw." </p><p>(Santana dealing with Rachel moving out and the aftermath of their fight in 5x09.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	let the truth sting

**Author's Note:**

> this is one of the dumbest fights glee has done. the girls have been over this shit for a full 2 seasons. i'm so sick of them shitting on the female friendships. my slight attempts to fix it, and get into santana's headspace. i'm having a hard time getting into rachel's right now. this is santana's pov and her side of the fight. i think rachel totally overreacted, but i don't like what santana did either. basically i wish this whole dumb thing never happened. enjoy!

She looks at the torn pieces of the photograph on the floor and clenches her jaw. Kurt walks away still shaking his head and she's left alone in the living room. Rachel having a dramatic storm out is nothing new, and she's sure as shit not going to take the blame for it.

Instead of letting herself feel guilty, she walks into the kitchen and boils some water. She picks at her cuticles absentmindedly until the water is bubbling and throws some pasta in the pot. Kurt walks into the kitchen and without a word pours himself a glass of water. She can feel him staring at her back while she stirs the pasta.

“It is _not_ my fault.” She insists.

“I never said it was, in fact I recall saying I understood what you did only half an hour ago.”

Santana turns around, crosses her arms and glares at him. “I'm good at this too. Just because I haven't wanted it since I was a fucking baby doesn't mean I can't want it now. She doesn't get to own the theatre.”

Kurt tips his head to the side and Santana shifts, uncomfortable under his gaze. She turns back around and pours the pasta into a strainer.

“Why did you pick her understudy for the thing to audition for though?” He asks. Santana whips her head around, preparing to yell at him but her hand slips and grazes the steaming hot part of the lid. She curses and drops it. “I mean, she completely overreacted, but I am curious. You had to know it would make her upset.”

Santana lifts the scalding lid up gingerly and drops it into the sink before turning back to Kurt. “It's not like I know of a ton of other opportunities. It was the one I knew about, and I wanted it. Yeah, I figured she'd get mad, but I also figured she'd get over it and support me. Hell, maybe even be excited to do it together?” Santana shakes her head, clearly she was being stupid. It appears that Rachel can only be friends with someone so long as it benefits to her. Once anything threatens her, she flips the fuck out.

“I think she'll calm down.” Kurt says. He stands up and begins to dish himself out some pasta. Santana sits down at the table and props one leg up in a crouch as she twirls some pasta and shoves a huge bite into her mouth. “She just... I don't know. Honestly, I didn't think she'd really leave.”

Santana doesn't look up at him. There is a particularly large chunk of tomato in her sauce. Before she even thinks about it, she lifts it out with her fork and goes to dump it into a bowl that isn't there. She tries to drop it back into her own bowl before Kurt sees, but his eyebrows raise and she knows he caught the motion. “Neither did I.” She whispers and shoves the offensive chunk of fruit to the side of her bowl.

...

... 

Rachel kicks Santana out of her star studded dressing room the next day. Santana doesn't rise to her bait. Instead, she picks up her makeup box and walks to the bathroom Rachel directs her towards.

When she hears the director telling them that together they are worth more than apart, something clicks in her head that she doesn't quite understand yet. Rachel looks ready to kill someone with her bare hands, but she sucks it up. Ever the consummate professional that one.

Santana's not kidding herself thinking that any of this is going to be easy. There is a hell of a lot to remember and she watches Rachel like a hawk. She can see the smaller girl squirming under her gaze but she ignores it. Her job is to learn everything Rachel does and be able to do it just as well, Rachel will just have deal with that.

She sure as hell would never admit it to anyone; but she does feel just a tiny bit in over her head the first week. Rachel has been at this for over a month –- and known the part since she was a goddamn toddler –- and Santana is playing catch up. She digs out Rachel's copy of the movie (she's got more than one, and forgets to pack both) and she watches it over and over for three nights straight. Kurt joins her without a word the second night. He makes small comments here and there about plot and performance and nonsense and Santana wants to punch him. She knows he can't help it--neither him nor Rachel ever can--she learned that years ago. It doesn't stop it from being annoying.

She clenches her teeth as Kurt starts talking about Barbra's presence on screen and he must see because he stops mid sentence.

“Sorry.” He mutters.

Santana just waves him off. “I'm going to bed, I'm beat. You can finish watching if you want.”

“Night.” He calls after her.

She walks into Rachel's former bedroom and strips out of her jeans before flopping down on the bed. Kurt hasn't said a thing since she took up residence there a few nights ago, but she's caught all his pointed looks.

It's not like Rachel is here to use the fucking bed and Santana is not gonna sleep on the couch anymore. Rachel decided to leave, and the bed is free.

It still smells like her.

Santana doesn't sleep in it the first night Rachel leaves, nor the second, nor the third. She expects the annoying midget to come back if she's being honest. On the fourth night with still no sign of Rachel, Santana grabs her pillow and calls it a night.

The smell throws her off. She almost jumps out of the bed and says 'fuck it'. But Kurt would wonder why she was back on the couch and _that_ is not a conversation she is willing to have.

Instead, she throws Rachel's pillows onto the floor and curls up with her own. The rest of the bed still smells like Rachel. Her shampoo permeates the blankets and the sheets even after Santana washes them--twice.

After a week of sleeping there and it _still_ smells like Rachel, Santana sprays her own perfume all over the blankets, sheets, and Rachel's pillows. She even sprays the blank mattress. All it does is make her almost throw up. She spends half the night choking before giving up and sleeping on the couch for the next couple of hours.

Kurt finds her there the next morning and quirks an eyebrow at her as he holds out a mug of coffee. “I spilled a bottle of perfume. The whole bed stinks.” She explains.

“Lovely.”

...

... 

Santana has no idea where Rachel is actually staying. It's not like they know a lot of people in New York. She suspects Rachel might be sleeping in her dressing room at the theatre, or that she somehow finagled her way back into the dorms at NYADA. In all honesty, Santana doesn't even know if Rachel is still taking classes there.

She's flat out icy with Santana at the diner and only speaks to her in short, curt sentences at rehearsal. Santana responds with biting comebacks for each insult Rachel shoots her way.

She knows that she's going to a place of fighting dirty. When she's pissed she gets _mean_. Santana catches Rachel's facade slip once or twice but refuses to let herself feel guilty. _Rachel_ is the one who started all this; _Rachel_ is the one who said they were never friends. If she wants it to be this way, then fuck it, Santana's not holding back.

The whole, 'we were never friends' thing hurt more than Santana is willing to admit. Santana thought they _were_ friends. She'd been genuinely worried for Rachel during that pregnancy scare. She'd gotten Finn to help with Brody because even though Finn was an idiot and Rachel deserved better than him; she sure as hell deserved better than Brody. As goddamn annoying as she was about it, Rachel's support when Santana came out had meant a lot. The fact that no matter how hard Santana seemed to push, Rachel was just always... there, meant something.

But Rachel's true colors have come out. The girl has always been a diva, but Santana thought there was a heart down in there somewhere; being wrong sucks.

...

...

The fact that Kurt appears to be on her side is a shocker.

She knows he is still talking to Rachel, but it's obvious she's icing him out a little bit too. Santana hears him on the phone with her when she comes home from rehearsal almost two weeks in. He sounds like he's pleading with her to come home, clearly not for the first time.

Santana heads straight for Rachel's room without a greeting and with great effort pulls off her clothes. She barely has time to do anything besides work, rehearsal, and catch any sleep when she can. The only time she even sees Kurt anymore is if they have the same shift, or they catch each other in the morning or night for a few minutes.

If she feels bad about anything it's that she might have had a hand in breaking up Kurt and Rachel's friendship. She knows it's not actually her fault. Rachel left, Rachel's blaming him, Rachel is the one this is on; but the smallest part of Santana feels guilty about it.

A little over two weeks go by and Santana didn't know it was possible to feel this drained. If Coach Sylvester hadn't been on her ass everyday throughout high school there is no way Santana would be able to handle this. She has no idea how Rachel is doing it.

Kurt stops her from running out the door that morning and forces her to sit down. He puts a banana and a small bowl of oatmeal in front of her. “I'm not letting you leave until you eat this.”

Santana glares at him. “Do you really think I'm afraid of you?” She asks.

“Of course you're not, but you also know that you need to eat and I'm currently your only friend so you will do this for me.”

She almost bites back at him but there is only concern in his face and she _is_ hungry, so she picks up a spoon and shovels oatmeal into her mouth.

...

...

The fact still remains that she likes it when Rachel sings.

Watching her in rehearsal is an enjoyment regardless of anything else. Santana doesn't play Fanny the same way Rachel does; she can't and she doesn't want to. The director seems to like both of their choices so Santana trusts her instincts. She's not kidding herself into thinking she's going to get to play Fanny much at all--if ever--so she's just learning as much as she can and enjoying herself.

Rachel doesn't look like she's having much fun at all.

She's professional to a T. She's polite, if not curt whenever she and Santana are with anyone else. She knows her lines and her blocking cold, and she works harder than anyone involved in the production. But, Santana has known Rachel since she was fourteen and she knows that the girl is close to getting burnt out. The lines under her eyes are getting darker, she's definitely lost some weight, and Santana's seen her drinking coffee like it's water.

No one seems to be saying anything to her and Santana can predict that this is going to go bad real quick, real soon.

Part of her knows she should be glad, if Rachel goes too crazy and makes herself sick, Santana gets the part. But, all it does is make her feel like shit.

She goes into Rachel's dressing room, and indeed it looks like she is sleeping there. She's tried to hide enough of her stuff so that no one will find out, but Santana knows what a bedroom of Rachel's looks like.

She switches out Rachel's coffee mug for a bottle of water and plops down in front of her vanity. The girl herself storms in and balks at the sight of Santana. They've no more than exchanged a few words at the most in the last week. All them only related to the play.

“What are you doing in here?” Rachel asks.

“You look hungry Berry, also super tired. Actually, you look like shit.”

Rachel shoves past her and drops her bag to the ground. “Get out of my dressing room.” She orders. Santana watches as she crosses her arms and stares her down, attempting to look menacing. It doesn't work. She looks lost and tired and lonely, everything Santana feels. Part of her really, _really_ wants to gloat. Rachel Berry brought pretty much everything on herself. Santana knows all about insecurities. She knows about desperately wanting to feel like you belong, needing to feel important, like a star; she get's it. But that doesn't change the fact that Rachel's the one who ended whatever semblance of a friendship they had.

Santana really and truly doesn't know why she's here. She doesn't know why she cares if Rachel runs herself into the ground. She shouldn't care. She doesn't _want_ to care; she's tried not caring for the last month--but it's not taking.

“You should cut it back on the coffee.” Santana says.

Rachel's arms drop to her side, then she crosses them again. “Get. Out.” She repeats.

Santana resists the urge to yell. It's her first instinct, always. Attack, then deal with crap afterwards. But that hasn't been working out so well for her recently, and she's sick of fighting. At least about this, it feels old and dragged out. She and Rachel have had a version of this fight again and again for years now. Santana is over it.

“I'm done fighting with you Berry.” She says. She hasn't moved out of Rachel's seat since she walked into the room. She's giving off an air of calm and collected as best she can – Rachel doesn't deserve to see her shake--she's anything but right now. Fucking Rachel Berry can get under her skin in ways that most people can't. It pisses her off.

“Then get out!” Rachel yells in frustration.

Santana stands up, towering over Rachel and invades her personal space. She grins a little as Rachel backs up instinctively. To her credit, Rachel straightens up and glares back at her. One thing Santana did always like about Rachel Berry is that she is a hell of a lot tougher than people think she is.

“Berry, I'm sick of fighting.” She repeats calmly. “Kurt misses you and you're sleeping in your fucking dressing room--which I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to do.”

“And I'm sure you are just loving it aren't you?” Rachel spits at her.

“You know, I want to.” Santana admits. Rachel blinks rapidly but holds her composure. “And I _did_ for a hot minute but mostly it's just pathetic and stupid.”

“San --” Rachel starts to yell but Santana doesn't let her get a word in. She doesn't need to be here, she's not the one who needs to apologize; it's her turn to talk.

“You _were_ my friend.” She keeps her voice even. And when Rachel's eyes flicker up to her own in surprise, Santana holds her gaze steady. “ _You_ fucked that up, not me.”

“I did no –-”

“I did some shitty things to you in high school, I was a bitch. I'm _still_ a bitch, I'm probably always going to be a bitch. But I haven't done anything to you since we graduated. Hell, pretty much all senior year I was semi nice to you.”

Rachel scoffs at that.

“I was there for you when you thought you were gonna have that dumb plastic hooker's baby, and I got you the job at the diner. I tolerate all your stupid rants, I eat your vegan crap, I cook so you don't starve to death, and just... you were my fucking friend Rachel. I didn't audition to spite you. I want this. I'm allowed to want this. You are not the center of the goddamn universe. Just because your dads and fucking Finn aren't here to tell you the sun shines out your ass every damn second of the day...”

“Shut up. You don't get to talk about Finn.” Rachel warns gravely.

“I _do_ actually. The kid was never my friend, but he was enough that I can talk about him if I want too. That's beside the point anyway, you know what I mean. You're freaking out because you're all alone. You're worried that you're not special anymore. I can do something just as well as you can and you can't handle it.”

“You aren't as good as me and you never will be.” Rachel insists.

“I am though.”

Rachel shakes her head in anger and steps away from Santana. She laughs cruelly. “You're _not_.”

Santana is so done with Rachel Berry's shit it is not even funny anymore. “We've got completely different styles Berry, but the fact is, I'm just as good as you. The thing you can't seem to wrap your head around is that there is room for both of us. You don't need to be the be all end all of every fucking thing. You can try, but you're gonna be alone for a lot longer than a month if that's what you want.”

“What is this Santana? What the hell do you want from me?”

“For reasons I cannot understand I want to give you a chance to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Rachel bits out a harsh laugh. “I think if anyone owes an apology, it's you.”

“I'm sorry.” Santana says. “I'm sorry that you are so insecure and so terrified of not being the best that you can't tell when people actually have your back.” She sighs. Part of her does owe Rachel an apology, and she knows it. “And I'm sorry for the shit I did to you in high school.” She adds sincerely. “But I'm not sorry I auditioned and I'm not sorry I got the part. I am not here to take anything away from you Rachel. I'm here because I love this too and I want it too and I'm not apologizing for that.”

Santana bends down and slings her bag over her shoulder. “If nothing else, quit being a bitch to Kurt because he for sure doesn't deserve it from you.”

“I'm not...”

“You are and you know it.” Santana steps back and leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I'm not going anywhere Rachel and I'm not gonna take a baseball bat to your legs. You don't look like you're having fun anymore. If you want to stop being a bitch, your bed's still where you left it. But if not –-” Santana shrugs. “Ball's in your court Rachel. I'm not gonna feel bad about any of this anymore.”

Rachel has been shifting her weight from one leg to another the whole time Santana's been talking. She's agitated and pissed off and Santana doesn't give a shit.

“At least start eating and sleeping like a normal person, I'll do your part if I have to but they hired you. Oddly enough, my job is to have your back.”

Santana walks out of the dressing room with her head held high. That's the closest to an apology and taking the high road that she's ever gotten close to. Maybe she's growing up after all.

...

... 

Rachel doesn't say a word to her for the next three days. Santana just shrugs it off. If Rachel doesn't want her friendship, than she doesn't. Santana's done.

She _does_ call Kurt two days after Santana talks to her. His face lights up and he immediately disappears into his room. He never bothers to do that with Blaine anymore, Santana's heard everything at this point.

He comes out of the room giddy, but trying to contain it. Santana shakes her head. “Glad she's done being a raging bitch to you.” She says with a mouth full of cereal.

“I'm...” He blanches.

“It's fine Kurt. Seriously, I'm glad. I don't need to be Berry's friend. Honestly, I don't want to if she's gonna act like this.”

Kurt looks ready to burst into some sort of speech that Santana does _not_ want to hear; so she dumps her bowl into the sink, grabs her bag, and bolts out the door. “See ya!” She yells over her shoulder.

She pulls a six hour shift at the diner, then runs over to play rehearsal after grabbing a coffee on the way. They are finally doing the whole play pretty much in consecutive order. They're all half in costume, using mics and finally working lighting cues into everything. It's beginning to feel like an actual play that's going to be on Broadway. Santana's mind is starting to get blown on the regular. She's got an agent, a woman calls her and tells her to do the smallest, dumbest things that Santana would never think about on her own.

The chorus girls are running through the roller skating number and Santana is finishing her dinner in the audience.

Rachel lowers herself down into the seat to Santana's right.

“Shouldn't you be up there rolling around the stage like a maniac?” Santana asks as she twirls her spaghetti.

“I do this number much more gracefully than you.” She retorts.

Santana only smirks as she eats her food, grimacing at a large tomato chunk. The two of them sit in silence for a few minutes, Santana continues eating and keeps her eyes on the stage. She can see Rachel glancing back and forth from the stage back to her in her peripheral vision.

“Spit out whatever crap you want to say about what I'm not doing right and let me finish my damn dinner Berry.” Santana orders.

“I'm not –- I'm not giving you a correction.” Rachel says through partly clenched teeth. Santana hears her take a breath. “You've been performing adequately.”

Santana snorts. “Fuck off Rachel.”

Rachel closes her eyes and takes another deeper breath. Santana ignores her and shoves the tomato chunk over in her dish.

“I'm trying... I'm not good at this.” Rachel admits. “I –- I'm still mad at you. But, upon reflection and time I've... I may have reacted poorly.”

Santana slowly turns her head towards Rachel.

“I still think what you did was... I'm still mad at you.” She repeats. “But I might have overreacted.”

“ _Might_ have?” Santana asks, a little more harshly than she intends. But whatever, she's not worrying about Rachel's fragile ego.

They sit in silence for a few minutes. “Eliza keeps banging into me on the turns.” Rachel says, pointing up to the blonde onstage.

Santana glances up. Most of the cast is pretty cool, but she had Eliza pegged as a grade A bitch from day one. “Me too. Bitch has two left feet, dunno why anyone cast her.”

Rachel lets out a small laugh. Santana twirls the last bite of spaghetti and shoves it in her mouth. She sees Rachel glance over. “You gonna eat the tomato?” She asks. Santana looks down at her dish, and back up at Rachel. She looks back at Santana softly, not smiling, but...there's something in her face that makes Santana falter for a second. She finishes chewing, swallows and clenches her teeth before holding the dish out. Rachel hesitates, then grabs the tomato chuck and pops it into her mouth.

Santana turns back and watches the stage silently. She doesn't consider them friends anymore, and this wasn't an apology, at least; it wasn't enough just yet. But, it's something.

 


End file.
